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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29861217">Dread</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colaris/pseuds/Colaris'>Colaris</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman: Arkham - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Gen, Mystery, Professors talking, Spiders, scorpions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:47:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,364</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29861217</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colaris/pseuds/Colaris</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A simple conversation among professors.// Jonathan Crane, Hugo Strange</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dread</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ladies and gentlemen, even if the weekend is just around the corner, I would ask you to sit still for some moments. The academic hour is far from over and I will, of course, use the last ten minutes of our precious time.” A loud groan penetrated the hall, followed by the rustling of the documents. Jonathan examined the partly bored faces of his students and smiled a bit. Despite the difficult and complicated subjects, his lecture was always well attended. There was rarely a vacant seat in the rows of seats. The psychiatrist laughed softly, ran his slim hand through his tangled hair. The students seemed to know by now that staying away during the professor's extremely dark lessons could quickly end in an absolute failure in the pretty complicated exam. Indeed, his exams caused high failure rates at the end of each semester. Jonathan smiled contentedly and finally picked up the short chalk again. Slowly he turned to the green board, studied the three full pages. The professor hesitated a moment, but then began to write a word in the middle of the last empty space. Psychopathy. His hand rested on the green board for a moment. After a few seconds he revealed what was written on it, his normally more than indifferent eyes almost lit up by the reaction of the audience. A rare moment of silence fell over the classroom. The psychiatrist looked into the questioning faces of his students and had to suppress a laugh. The chalk finally found its way back onto the table. Jonathan put his hands in his trouser pockets and explained without any hurry: “For your next lesson I ask you to create a mind map on the subject of psychopathy. Be sure to think of both levels, both interpersonal-affective and anti-social-deviant. If necessary, take another look at your documents from November 25th. In the individual groups you will then work out for yourself how to recognize a psychopath and how to deal with this group of people in psychiatric facilities like Arkham. Please make a good effort, ladies and gentlemen. The library offers a large amount of literature on the subject and one or two sources are not enough."</p>
<p>The students quickly wrote down the assignment, then looked back at the desk. The professor smiled a cold-hearted smile and closed the folder with his script, then turned to the audience once again: "Have a nice weekend." The students immediately began to pack their stuff and finally left the large room. There were only three lecture lessons left this semester. A circumstance that terrified the not so gifted youngsters. Jonathan put his fingers around the almost empty water bottle and opened it. He took a few greedy gulps and then licked his dry lips. The psychiatrist was about to leave the lecture hall when suddenly a student he knew stood next to his desk. Her hanging bag was heavy on her shoulder. She seemed to be looking for the right words. Possibly a question. The professor ignored the young woman and continued to pack his papers. Half of it was already stowed away when the student finally spoke up: "Professor Crane, I have one more question if you allow it." The addressed stopped doing his work and looked up. The blonde hair framed her youthful face. He knew her from the practice lessons, when the woman stood out for her good cooperation. She was also involved in the lectures and tried to answer the psychologist's questions with appropriate answers. Despite the good cooperation, he had forgotten her name again. Jonathan raised an eyebrow and finally replied calmly: "Sure, but hurry up, please, will you? We have already passed ten minutes and I actually wanted to be home before nine o'clock.” The young woman nodded in understanding, then looked in her college pad for a piece of paper. On this was a lot of information about the last lesson. Her fingers traced the lines, quickly found the records in question. She looked up and spoke briskly: “What about the free points, for example the promiscuity? It does not fall into either of the two levels, but it can certainly help to identify a psychopath from my knowledge.” The professor nodded in agreement and put the last folder in his ancient bag. The worn leather chafed uncomfortably on the hands. He returned his attention to the eager student and explained with a fake smile: “You are absolutely right about that. I hope that at least a small percentage of my audience will stumble upon this fact. Unfortunately, my experience of the last semester indicates something else."</p>
<p>The young woman's lips formed a line as she closed the college block again. Her documents disappeared from the psychologist's field of vision. Suddenly a small smile crept onto the student's face. She blinked a few times and spoke a little quieter than before: “Your lectures are really special, professor Crane. I have the feeling that I learn a lot more from you than from the other lecturers. You always try to go into such detail on the individual points and give us significantly more knowledge on the way than the superficial lessons of certain professors of this department.” Jonathan knew exactly which lecturer the young woman was talking about. He rubbed the back of his neck slowly, tried to think about the praise just said. That was much more difficult to grasp than the usual criticism. He thought for a moment and replied shyly: “I am glad if you have the feeling that my courses are helping you to understand things in psychology. I'm used to hearing the exact opposite.” The young woman smiled even wider, holding her bag tightly against her body. She carefully studied the angular face of her professor. “You know,” she continued slowly, “most students are just too lazy and unable to listen for a long time. Your lessons are not easy, I'll admit that, but they can be done.” Jonathan listened to the young woman's words, then smiled a bit. He stepped next to her and calmly replied: "You are honest with yourself. An important step in becoming a good psychologist. Clearly useable potential in your future of helping tortured souls." Together they strolled through the classroom onto the Gotham University campus. There they parted ways. Jonathan's path led him to the main building, a building of fifteen floors.</p>
<p>He pressed the elevator touchpad on the first floor and waited patiently for the elevator to arrive. The doors slid open with a loud ringing. The professor entered and pressed another button to go to the twelfth floor. A soft melody played in the background as the elevator made its way up. Another ring signalled the arrival. The psychiatrist stepped out of the elevator and looked around to the left. Room number 1229. He started moving and after a few steps stood in front of the white door. The key opened the lock carefully. Unfortunately, it often jammed, making it a balancing act not to break off the small piece of iron in his hand. Finally the lock gave way and opened the door to his small office. Jonathan sighed in relief and went straight to the tidy desk. On top of it were three folders with projects he was working on. Among other things, a study of phobias and their effect on human behaviour. The associated examinations on the subjects were in full swing. The professor smiled wryly and glanced at the first page of this series of experiments. Young, inexperienced students were a very good practice field. His self-mixed drug of adrenaline, serotonin, and dopamine worked on so many levels. For example, the mixture caused hallucinations in most of the subjects. However, these were unexpectedly violent and were reinforced by added variables. A burlap sack with a cut-out face met this criterion. None of his involuntary research subjects appeared to be immune to the drug. Jonathan stroked the first sheet of his work, examined the finished synopsis. It offered groundbreaking insights into dealing with phobias, and each new attempt only confirmed his suspicions. A smile fell on his lips. This died instantly when he heard footsteps from outside. His fingers opened the drawer and stowed the work out of sight of potential visitors. The steps came closer, then stopped.</p>
<p>A loud knock confirmed Jonathan's suspicions. He took another deep breath, then invited the guest inside. The door swung open and Hugo Strange appeared in the frame. The bald man with the round glasses showed his usual uncomfortable smile. The psychiatrist still did not know what to do with the leading philosopher. The professor was a total mystery to him. Hugo sat down on one of the vacant chairs and clasped his hands. A few seconds passed before he actually began to speak softly: “You are always so absorbed in your work, Jonathan. What luck for the department of Psychology, hm? It is rare to find talented individuals who turn their job into a calling these days.” The addressee frowned and leaned back in the comfortable chair. What did this man want from him? Meanwhile, the philosopher examined the small collection of enclosures. In these sat mostly scorpions and tarantulas of different sizes and types. The psychiatrist followed the other's scrutinizing gaze and asked casually: “You probably don't suffer from arachnophobia, do you?” Professor Strange gave a dry laugh, his smile widening a little. He waved him off: “No, your little creepy crawlers don't scare me, but how many students ran out screaming? Definitely an amusing spectacle for you, right?” Jonathan snorted and turned his chair to the enclosures. He opened one of the containers, navigated one of the eight legged animals with a brush on the back of his hand. His eyes fixed the tarantula. The creature crawled leisurely on his arm and explored the new area. Hugo watched the process with watchful eyes. Only when the spider lingered calmly on the shoulder of its holder did he speak almost fascinated: "Phobias are really something amazing." The professor nodded, put a hand on his upper arm to navigate the animal back on the back of his hand. Once there, the spider remained calm again. Jonathan smiled and replied with a low voice: “Most people don't understand their fears and don't want to deal with them. You avoid direct confrontation, which in many cases could lead to overcoming a useless phobia."</p>
<p>Hugo laughed a little at the reply and asked curious: “Who likes to deal with things that make us fearful? But tell me, Jonathan, why does the sight of a hairy tarantula frighten people who are so many centimetres taller than the little animal?” The professor raised his hand in the direction of the enclosure, let his spider crawl slowly back onto the damp ground. While she was slowly resting on a cork tube, the psychiatrist explained dryly: “We are afraid of things that do not look human. Take a dog as an example. He is admired because, like us, he has two eyes, a torso, and moves on four limbs. Some even believe that they recognize facial expressions similar to those in humans. In addition, the size of the dog is associated with a toddler, which is why the owners often talk to the dog in children's language. Exactly the same goes for cats. But if we look at a spider, we hardly see any correspondence with us. Eight legs, many eyes, a mysterious physique, sharp fangs. There is really nothing next to human anatomic about this animal. That makes it a pure nightmare for arachnophobes. Also nature teaches us to be afraid of something probably venomous, even if the threat is not real in the end.” The philosopher listened to the professor's words with huge interest. He glanced at the enclosures again, lingering on a white knee tarantula. This crawled deeper into its hole in the ground, soon vanished from the field of vision of the philosopher. “They are impressive creatures,” Hugo admitted after a while. Jonathan took a deep breath and looked suspiciously at his colleague. Whatever it was, Hugo Strange lived up to his last name. This man was hiding something. The psychiatrist's brow furrowed. What was it? This uncomfortable feeling became even more noticeable during the break in the conversation. Finally Jonathan broke the silence carefully: “Did you only come here to talk to me about my scorpions and spiders, Hugo? I assume you have more serious business with being here.” The philosopher grinned wider and sat up straight.</p>
<p>“Of course not”, he replied with amusement, tilting his head a little, “there are peculiar cases of students who disappear for a short time and then reappear with very odd amnesia symptoms. They don't remember what they did during that short period. All that is noticeable is fearful behaviour on the part of all those affected. You should know about this, because it seems to hit psychology students most of all. Especially from your classes, my friend.” Jonathan frowned and folded his hands. He remained silent for a few seconds until he replied softly: "And I am under suspicion now?" Hugo waved his hand and smiled frugally. He got up from the chair and went to the door. He stayed there for a moment, then turned back to Jonathan and said mysteriously: “Aren't we all under a specific sort of suspicion in this field? But to answer your question, Jonathan: you're not more suspicious than the other professors right now. Just a quick reminder, as friends. You should be careful what you do and who you share this information with. It's harder for two to hide a secret than for one. Have a good night.” With these words, Hugo left the office. The door closed with a bang and he was alone again. The professor stayed in his position, running a hand through his short hair. He had to be more careful with his research and leave fewer traces. Jonathan breathed in and out deeply, then pushed himself out of the chair and pulled on his jacket. There was still so much to explore. So much in too little time.</p>
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